“This is devastating.”

A fiendishly clever Queensland man has pushed the buttons of vulnerable social media users with photographs of dozens of sharks apparently dumped on the beach at South Stradbroke Island, the sight of the WSL’s Boost Mobile Pro Gold Coast.

“Flake anyone?” writes Blair Parker.

“Oooh man, that’s sad,” writes one.

“Yummmmm,” he responds.

“Parker, what are you doing to me. (Sad face emoji.) You’re killing me here.”

“Yummmmm… I know you like flake chips,” writes Parker.

“This is devastating.”

“Fish is good for your diet xx,” writes cheeky Parker.

Later, he brings in a little perspective.

“This is a great example of locally caught produce A family business catching local food to feed families like mine and yours. There are very few licenses available for net fishermen. They catch sustainable species… I eat fish… I’ve also worked on long line boats twenty years ago. In those days, they took the fins to send to the Chinese and threw the rest overboard. These sharks are prime examples of perfect eating variety.”

The Department of Fisheries, meanwhile, is sending a team to South Straddie to determine if any offences have been committed.

“Queensland Boating and Fisheries Patrol will investigate whether the reports of dead sharks on the beach are current and whether their presence is due to discarded bycatch,” a spokesperson said. “Local fishers should sort their catch further offshore and release any bycatch alive wherever possible.”

Yesterday, social media users were made very sad when the blood-spattered corpse of a juvie Great White was found dumped at Point Lowly, a popular swimming and diving spot in South Australia’s upper Spencer Gulf, around four hundred clicks north-west of Adelaide.

And it isn't the first time a Great White has been mysteriously iced.

A juvenile great white, eight feet or so, has been found washed ashore at Point Lowly, a popular swimming and diving spot in South Australia’s upper Spencer Gulf, around four hundred clicks north-west of Adelaide.

Great Whites aren’t exactly rare in South Australia, click here if you want to examine how often you’ll see ‘em out there, and around Point Lowly, occasionally they’ll swim in a couple of metres of water just off the beach.

“I was there fishing off the rocks October-November. Seen a big White hanging around the rocks a few times. Maybe it was him,” said one commenter in response to the story of the dead juvie White on Adelaide News.

But, while it might be common to see Great Whites, what’s rare is to find one dead, likely slaughtered.

Speculation is rife on social media that a couple of local fishermen hooked the fish with rod and line, tail-roped it and dragged it to shore, leaving it to die.

Photos were shared, quickly deleted.

Fisheries Officers from the Department of Primary Industries and Regions scooped up the animal and took it away for forensic examination.

“With the assistance of locals, the shark was located and retrieved… as part of an investigation into the circumstances surrounding the possible cause of death,” a spokesperson said.

Whites are a protected species in Australia, have been since 1999, and if you kill ‘em and get caught you’ll be hit with a ten-gee fine.

It isn’t the first time Whites have been mysteriously iced.

Last year, in two separate incidents, two Great Whites were found “wedged under the reef between South side and Rifle Butt beach” in Margaret River; one shark, according to locals, with a rope still tied to its tail suggesting it had been “dragged and drowned.”

And introducing the "kook rhombus"!

“Jesus Haploid Christ! I’m an idiot,” I think, remembering what happened in the surf this morning.

Relative to my ability, I had negotiated the crumminess of the waves and crowd with uncharacteristic finesse.

I had gotten greedy and paddled back out after what should’ve been a session-ender.

A voice.

“Hey, Karl?”

“Huh?”

I angled my head to get a view of him. It was Conner, from the office.

“Oh, hi, Connor.”

“I didn’t know you surfed!” he said excitedly.

“Yeah.”

“This is so cool! Hey, Aiden is out today, too. He’s just out there,” he said pointing towards the lineup.

As I got closer, I noticed Aiden and his glistening beard on a mid-length, sitting with a female, Connor’s girlfriend, Dana, who I’m pretty sure ended up working for Herbalife, getting “hired” on there after doing her SDSU MBA program final consulting project on one of the company’s semesterly marketing studies projects meant to make it seem more legitimate and less swindle-y and pyramid-scheme-y.

“Hey, look what the cat dragged in,” said Connor as we got to the others, forming a sort of circle, a kook rhombus.

“Hey, man! So cool to see you surfing out here!” said Aiden, loudly.

“Yeah.”

“Now that we know you surf, we should do this more often!” said Connor.

“Yeah.”

I pretended I’d seen something and paddled a little to the north to get away.

The group followed.

Angrily panicked thoughts raced through my head.

“What the fuck? Why are they following me? This is why I don’t tell anyone I surf… ugh…only my family, my girlfriend, and one other girl I was interested in ten years ago, who I grew up with and also surfed, knew! And now I’m surfing with three VALs… I mean, Aiden has been surfing for seven years (so I remember him making a big deal about then) at least and rides a shortboard… no, he’s still a VAL!”

“Hey!” said Connor, breaking the spiral. “Aiden was thinking of heading up to Rincon this weekend, he’s been looking at swell charts and forecasts for the last two weeks. I wasn’t going to go, though now that we know you surf, too, maybe we can all make a trip out of it!”

“Is there going to be any surf even? Anyway, I’m going to be pretty busy this weekend,” I lied.

“OK. That’s cool. Well, maybe we can do something over Thanksgiving weekend. Aiden was telling me that Bryce was thinking about getting into surfing.”

“Bryce?”

“The mega-investor guy our company brought in for our training unit on Corporate Social Responsibility,” said Aiden. “I’ve been talking to him for awhile, trying to butter him up?”

“For what? Doesn’t he only invest in startups? Like those bullshit startups that don’t even offer products or services, existing for who knows why?” I asked.

“Yeah, but…” he trailed off.

I said, “Social climbing. Got it. He’s Hurley Man.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Aiden went quiet.

“With Bryce, you can call yourselves The Alphabet Group or Alphabet, Inc,” I said.

“Like the Google company?” asked Aiden.

“Yeah, I guess, sorry,” I said, no one getting the reference.

Everyone went quiet.

“What kind of music do you listen to?” asked Dana to cut the non-actual tension tension.

“I don’t know. A little of this, a little of that. I usually just like individual songs,” I said.

Connor caught a left on his 5’10” MF Little Marley (Aqua), stiff legged and going straight, only slightly angled so as to perceive he’s going down the line.

“Do you listen to Sublime?” she asked.

“Do I look like a fifteen-year old pothead? They sucked even when they were relevant,” I said, causing her to noticeably wince.

“Oh, Connor loves them. Since he’s started surfing, he’s gotten really into them. And Jack Johnson, who we all listen to.”

“Oh, um, cool. I think I’m going to paddle in. It was nice seeing you… guys.”

I started paddling in, not even waiting for a wave anymore. As I was paddling, I passed Connor.

“Hey, so think about Thanksgiving weekend,” he said.

“Yeah,” I lie.

I make it to the car and drive home to hop in the shower to rinse myself of the stench of the session.

Three hours later, I receive a flurry of texts. Apparently, I have been pulled into a work surfing group text thread that meanders from Surf Ranch to Tavi “strike missions”. I make sure not to answer any of the messages unless directly addressed.

I ignore the vibrating block on my nightstand, checking in periodically for some unknown reason, only to make sure none of them are talking to me.

I glance at my phone and there is a text from Aiden, “Karl, should I get a Black and White or a Sampler?”

“Sampler is a terrible board.”

“OK. I’ll get a 6’1” Black and White.”

“Why 6’1”?”

“The site says ‘should be ridden about your same height to two inches longer’.”

“OK.”

Disappointed with myself for answering, I turn off my phone and boot up the computer.

Time for a new job.